Aihan Min remained unseen, watching Guinevere from the depths of the shadows. She was patient and silent, her form blending into the darkness itself.
When she finally moved, it was with purpose.
She went directly to Ren.
Her voice, steady and knowing, slipped through the air.
"She's doing exactly what you said she would. Why don't you kill her?"
A brief pause.
"I can do it for you. Even though I don't particularly enjoy killing anymore."
Ren leaned back, unreadable. The weight of his gaze carried something beyond simple calculation—there was intent, even in his silence.
"Don't do that," he said finally. "You're a teacher now. I appreciate the offer, but there's no need."
She studied him, waiting.
"Go back to the university," Ren continued. "Enjoy your retirement."
Aihan Min gave no reply—only a flicker of movement.
Then, she vanished, dissolving into the darkness like she had never existed.
The Price of Mercy
Ren exhaled, turning slightly.
"Talia," he murmured, "you should have restrained her more. I don't want the hassle of killing her."
Talia—lounging against him—grinned, ruby-red eyes glowing with indulgence.
He barely reacted as she drank from his neck, her slow movements exuding pleasure, her pale skin a stark contrast to the blood staining her lips.
Ren let her continue, his voice steady despite the distraction.
"I spared her out of pity," he admitted.
Talia withdrew, licking away the remnants of blood with casual amusement.
"King Jaime's last wish," Ren continued. "He wanted her to be happy. To have a family. To move on."
Talia wiped the corner of her mouth, smirking.
"What can a mortal do to us?" she mused, tilting her head.
Her voice carried mischief, yet it also held certainty.
"We cannot die. All we can do is walk this earth for aeons, waiting… Until the day we conquer all of it."
Her smile widened.
"And then, we will look to other galaxies—ones untouched, ones waiting to be claimed… or created."
The words lingered—not ambition, but inevitability.
Ren remained silent.
Ren exhaled, leaning back slightly, gaze drifting toward the darkened horizon beyond the palace walls.
"I can't even recall why I built this empire," he murmured.
A pause.
"Maybe I'm lying. Or maybe… I can't put it into words in a way that satisfies me."
His fingers traced the rim of his glass, thoughtful.
"But, like you said, patience is everything." His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "There's always someone waiting to take power from us. They will try. And when they do—"
A smirk.
"We will be the victors. The spoils of war will be ours. And we will claim their lands—an excuse, nothing more."
Silence settled, but only briefly.
Ren's voice softened.
"I just remembered something," he mused, his tone tinged with something distant. "When all nine of us were still in high school… the world was different."
His gaze shifted.
"Humans still chased immortality—technology, evolution—searching for ways to escape their limits. But we had already surpassed them. From the very beginning. From the moment I died."
A faint chuckle, almost detached.
"When I came back as this—a true immortal—I knew then that there was nothing I couldn't do. Nothing I couldn't become."
His voice dipped slightly.
"It's hard not to become corrupted by power."
His eyes flicked to Talia, watching as she drank leisurely from his neck, her movements slow, indulgent.
"But look at you."
Talia withdrew, ruby-red gaze locked onto his, blood still fresh on her lips.
"You indulge yourself to your heart's content," he murmured. "You should remember to restrain yourself."
He tilted his head slightly, amusement creeping into his tone.
"Don't become a liability."
A quiet pause.
"I worry about you sometimes," he admitted. "You're the most reckless of my wives. The most bloodthirsty."
A low laugh escaped him.
Talia only grinned, licking away the remnants of blood, but she was listening.
And she was enjoying herself.
Desire and Control
Talia tilted her head, amusement flickering in her ruby-red eyes. Her voice was smooth and teasing yet laced with something heavier beneath the surface.
"What about you, dear husband?" she murmured, her words lingering like silk. "Aren't you just as greedy?"
She leaned in slightly, her lips curling into a smirk.
"You already have three godly wives, yet you indulge with my mother… and Stella."
Her fangs glinted as she chuckled, a knowing edge creeping into her words.
"And then there's Yuki."
Her eyes narrowed, gleaming with devilish delight.
"She watches you with hungry ambition, craving more than her station allows."
A pause.
"But, to be fair… her grandfather set her on that path long ago."
Her laughter was light, almost musical—but the mischief beneath it was no mistake.
Ren exhaled a chuckle, his gaze lingering on her.
"You're right," he murmured, amusement flickering.
"No one is perfect."
A pause.
"Thank you, Talia. I shouldn't become a liability myself by indulging too much."
Then, with deliberate ease, he leaned in.
His lips brushed against her neck before sinking into her skin.
Talia inhaled sharply, then grinned, pulling him closer, indulging herself again.
Unwavering Obsession
Anastacia found her excuse to slip away, barely registering Mariko's presence as she moved swiftly through the corridors.
She had to find Guinevere.
And when she did, her heart sank.
"Guinevere… what are you doing?"
Her voice wavered, quiet, but the words carried the weight of unspoken fear.
Guinevere barely turned.
Her fingers traced the spine of an ancient tome, eyes fixed on the script as if secrets of vengeance were hidden between the lines.
Obsession burned in her gaze—unwavering, undiluted.
Anastacia swallowed hard.
She should have concealed that intensity—or maybe she didn't care to anymore.
For a brief moment, Guinevere did look up.
But when she met Anastacia's gaze, something was missing—or something new entirely.
Something that had replaced what had once been there.